


Made for Me

by bluerose5



Series: Vampire RK1K [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blow Jobs, M/M, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Possessive Behavior, Power Bottom Connor, Riding, Shameless Smut, Vampire Sex, Vampire Venom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-28 21:26:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16250108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluerose5/pseuds/bluerose5
Summary: Markus had his fun. Now it's Connor's turn to take control.





	Made for Me

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 because I had a need today to write this. Might clean this up some more, might not, but I hope you enjoy it either way! <3

After his first time in that church, Connor goes stumbling back to Hank in clothes that weren't his own, doing his best to hide the uneven scarring on his neck.

Hank takes his new wardrobe in stride, at least. After all, it's not as if vampire hunting is the highest paying job out there, so they've been known to "borrow" things they need from time to time.

All in the name of keeping the mortals safe.

Only Connor isn't exactly mortal, is he?

He would say "not anymore," but apparently he wasn't ever one to begin with.

Now  _that_ is a bitter pill to swallow. Connor always knew that Hank had taken him in with no known parents or family to his name. He had been brought up in the trade, Hank's apprentice first and then his partner and son later, but still...

There are some things that you would rather not live with on your conscience, such as the fact that Connor's been killing his own kind for years on end without a care in the world.

Perhaps that's it, though, because Hank has always been a bit soft, so to speak, when it came to hunting. He's always been the more compassionate one, willing to hear the beas— Connor swallows thickly. —willing to hear  _them_  out when they had them cornered and begging for mercy.

Connor would rather not sit around and listen to their sob stories, exterminating the problem with a distance. Like how one would deal with a pest.

Accomplish the mission. That had  _always_ been the goal.

Until now, he thinks, frowning worriedly to himself.

Shifting in his seat, he hugs the long coat that Markus had given him around his body, bringing the collar to his nose to take a long, deep breath. That familiar, warm, smoky aroma wraps around him like a lover's embrace. Connor wants nothing more than to bury himself in it, to lose himself and forget all about everything else, if only for a second.

Something wiggles in the back of his mind, nudging against his consciousness, but Connor shies away.

He has an idea what that is,  _who_ that is, and he just... he just needs to think without all of that in the way.

He releases the collar then, ignoring when his stomach starts to twist into vengeful, painful knots. Hank barges into the kitchen then, carrying some of that god-forsaken filth that he calls food in along with him.

The stench is rancid and unbearable, and Connor has to cover his mouth and nose just to escape it, gagging quietly in the back of his throat.

Connor feels his teeth start to sharpen to points, and his throat constricts with a thirst for something  _more._

Another nudge in his mind goes by ignored, more insistent this time.

Hank tosses him a confused look, taking his place at the table across from him.

He spreads his weapons out on the table, and Connor inches his other hand away when a cross moves too close, his skin gradually climbing in heat.

Better not get himself burned. Not that it really matters anymore, since Hank is already on edge and suspicious. It doesn't take a genius to figure that out.

His eyes burn into Connor's face, and eventually he speaks.

"So, the hunt...?" Hank starts.

Connor immediately interrupts. "He got away."

Hank raises an eyebrow at that, narrowing his eyes when Connor shrinks under the weight of his gaze. "' _He'?"_

Oh, shit.

"'It,'" Connor hurriedly corrects himself. The mark on his neck starts to itch, so he has to clench his hands into fists in order to resist the urge to touch it. "I meant 'it.'"

_Connor..._

Upon hearing Markus's voice in his mind, Connor jumps out of his skin, banging his knees on the flimsy table.

With the venom and blood actively working its way through his system, however, Connor forgets his momentary bout of strength, nearly flipping the table over in his shock.

"Holy shit!" Hank snaps. "Connor, what the hell?" He notices Connor's ashen face then, how he clutches desperately at his neck, where a sliver of a scar can be seen over the edge of his grasp. "Oh, fucking hell."

Connor darts up desperately, sending his chair careening towards the wall behind him while he tries to regain control of the situation, his hand glued to his mate's mark.

 _Mate_?

What the fuck is happening to him?

The squirming in the back of his mind tries again, and Connor manages to grasp at the nape of his neck where the sensation is strongest, bewildered when Markus speaks to him again.

 _My love,_ he murmurs, his voice wispy and gentle, filled with dark promises that Connor should be getting as far away from as possible.  _I'm waiting for you._

"Well then keep waiting, asshole," Connor snarls, tugging relentlessly at his dark brown strands. Hank says something, but it blurs in comparison to the roar of activity swirling in his head.

Markus's voice is little more than a whine.  _I miss you, Connor. I miss_ us.

Heat floods through his body then, and Connor chokes in shock, keeling over as pulsating waves of lust and desire assault his senses, one after another.

 _Do you want me to stop?_ Markus asks, and Connor can detect a sincere worry underlying his tone. He's wondering if he's crossed some unspoken line, but Connor rapidly shakes his head. As an answer to the question or an attempt to clear his mind, he can't honestly say.

"Please," Connor murmurs, shutting his eyes against the spinning world around him. "Give me a second."

A long, solid pause of silence, and then Markus asks, his voice noticeably more quiet than before,  _Will I see you again?_

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Connor buries the heels of his hands against his eyes, little black dots popping up throughout his vision.

"I don't know," Connor sighs. "Markus, I don't know."

His only response is silence, accompanied by a mind-numbing, nerve-wracking agony that rips through his chest. Markus tries to suppress it, for Connor's sake, but Connor still bears the brunt of it, doubling over with a strained grunt.

When Markus says no more, settling into the back of his mind, Connor takes a few moments to regain his bearings, pulling himself to his full height.

And when he turns to Hank, his father —for all intents and purposes— is already up and standing, watching Connor warily from a distance.

Connor's eyes zero in on the cross that he holds, pressed firmly against his thigh.

Claws dig into Connor's palms when his hands ball into fists, and sharp fangs protrude from his gums, slicing through his bottom lip.

One blink is all it takes for his eyes to snap from one color to the next, soft brown and white shifting into an unnatural black and red.

Hank's heart skips a beat, but just the one.

Otherwise, he shows no signs of fear, and Connor cocks his head to the side, unable to hide his confusion.

That's when it hits him.

_"Ahh... they never told you."_

Markus's words echo in his mind, and Connor's eyes snap back towards Hank, his lip curling.

"Did you—" Connor can't even fathom it, let alone voice the words, but he needs to know. He takes a step forward, and Hank's resigned expression does anything  _but_ encourage him. "Did you know about this?"

He gestures at his claws and face, at the mess that fate has made of himself.

Hank's entire demeanor deflates, and he tosses his cross to the side, dropping heavily into his chair. While he drags his hands tiredly over his face, Connor slowly but surely returns to his human form.

Eventually, he returns his attention to Connor, biting at the inside of his cheek.

"I didn't know when they brought you to me what you were. Amanda gave me my orders, and I followed through."

"When did you first know then?" Connor rasps, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

"I—" Hank contemplates his answer. With a shrug, he runs his fingers through silver hair, at a loss. "I didn't have some big 'ah-hah' moment if that's what your asking. No lightbulb going off over my head, or any of that shit. It was just the little things I picked up from watching you hunt."

"Such as?"

"Your strength, for one," Hank points out. "Hate to break it to you kid, but not just anyone can take on a vampire singlehandedly in hand-to-hand combat without subduing them first. Add that to your speed and your skill. Hell, your senses in general, and I knew that you were..."

"Inhuman," Connor whispers.

Hank nods, refusing to meet his eyes. "Yeah, that."

Connor grimaces. "And does that..." He braces himself for the worst. "Does that change things? How you see me?"

Hank's eyes snap back to his within a second, his mouth twisting into a scowl.

"Fuck no," he snaps. "Whatever happens now, whatever you decide, we—" He motions between the two of them. "—will always be okay, you hear?" He waits until Connor nods in agreement before he continues. "Okay, so I'm gonna give it to you straight. We can go on as things have been if you want." Foolish. Both of them know that that isn't an option anymore. Hank senses where his thoughts are headed, so he raises a hand before Connor can interject. " _Or_ we can take our hunting business into our own hands."

"You mean, betray Amanda?" Connor raises an eyebrow, but part of him —a large part— can't deny the temptation. "Go rogue?"

"If that's what you want to call it." Hank starts to straighten the table, salvaging what he can of his meal while he talks. "We choose our own hunts from now on, judge the vampires based on our own standards. Not hers."

They have spared a few before in their past, much to Amanda's disapproval, but there are vampires out there that walk the shady, gray areas of morality, keeping to themselves, drinking only from the ones who this world already deems as monsters themselves.

Connor can only hope that Markus is one of those types.

A warmth spreads along the base of Connor's neck, sinking down over his spine.

Markus hears the question, sees what Connor is asking for, and Connor receives a fog of reassurance as an answer.

A list flows through his mind. Names, victims, criminals...

Markus is extremely careful in his selection. He doesn't necessarily want to be the one playing judge and executioner, but self-preservation is a strong deterrent. If he's going to feed, then he'll do so with the intent of ridding the world of the other parasites that seek to destroy it.

Connor shakes free of his tangled thoughts, but he already knows the answer before it leaves his lips.

"Alright." He nods shakily at Hank. "Okay, let's do it."

Hank grins, and he watches while Connor sits across from him, waiting until the right moment before he asks.

"Now," Hank teases, "mind telling me who the hell ‘Markus’ is and why you have a bite mark on your neck?"

Connor can't help but to laugh, Markus's presence swirling smugly in the back of his mind.

*****

When Hank slips into his slumber later that night, snores loud and invasive, Connor takes his chance to escape from their latest home, sneaking into the cool, quiet night.

Connor feels his heart give several tugs, so he cautiously follows where it leads him.

Markus has been alarmingly silent throughout the day, but now his presence grows with each step that brings them closer together.

 _Looking for someone?_ He taunts.

The flutter of wings floats down from above, startling Connor when several crows cry simultaneously in alarm.

A deep laugh echoes all around him, bouncing off of his ears from all sides, and Connor stops at the edge of the clearing that leads to the church.

Another laugh, only this time, Connor hears a snap of a twig behind him.

As the body comes barreling at him, he shifts so that he uses the momentum to his advantage.

They both go rolling onto the ground, one after the other, over and over again until they stop, Connor pinning his attacker to the ground with a snarl.

Markus's blue and green eyes stare back at him, elated and overjoyed, his irises submerged in an otherworldly glow.

While Connor stares, Markus darts up to steal a kiss, but Connor doesn't let him move away, earning a low trill from the back of Markus's throat.

If anything, Connor pushes more into his touch, clutching at Markus's shirt and dragging him deeper into the kiss. Their mouths mold together, fangs clicking when they bump clumsily against one another. Connor's pulse pounds loudly in their ears, echoing back and forth between their bond, and his cheeks start to heat as he pants in between each smacking press of their lips.

When his head spins, the need for air becoming a bit too much to handle, Connor pulls back with labored breaths. Markus noses at his jaw, working his way over his neck.

Markus pushes the collar of his coat to the side, dragging his teeth over his mark.

It's like all of Connor's nerves come to life at once, pushed to the edge with the barest hint of stimulation. Connor hisses, jolting in his grasp, and Markus's thoughts start to fuse even more with his own.

 _Mine,_ he thinks, low and hungered.

Images of yesterday, of their bodies moving as one, cloud his vision, and Connor moans as pure, unadulterated need crawls restlessly under his skin.

"Can—" Connor grits his teeth when Markus applies greater pressure, his cock twitching in the strict confines of his pants. "Can you promise  _me_  that though?"

Markus pulls away, his brow furrowing. "What?"

Connor averts his eyes, gnawing on his lip with worry. A soft thumb plucks it from his grasp, revealing tiny droplets of blood where his fangs penetrated too deep.

Connor swallows past the venom, trying again. "Can you promise me that?" He meets Markus's mismatched eyes, trailing his claws over his face, his cheeks, his jaw... Lower and lower, until they settle on his firm shoulders. Markus shudders beneath him, leaning into his touch, and Connor can't resist giving him a tender smile. "You claim that I'm yours, but can  _you_  promise me the same?"

"Of course," Markus answers vehemently, their noses brushing ever so slightly. Markus's hand settles on Connor's hip, and Connor blesses him with a brief peck. "Don't you feel it?" Markus nudges at their bond, leaning in with heavy-lidded eyes. "How connected we are?"

Their lips barely brush, a hair’s width away, and Connor sighs longingly against his mouth.

This time, the nudge is more coaxing than prodding, pulling Connor deeper into Markus's side of things, embedding him within every single grain and fiber of Markus's being.

Every thought, sensation, memory, emotion... All of it bared, set out on display for Connor's perusal, open and vulnerable.

Before he can process what he's doing, Connor is crushing his lips against Markus's own, whimpering as they go back and forth together. Still, it's not enough. Connor has the unbearable urge to continue, to sink impossibly deeper.

Their tongues tangle together, and neither one knows who starts it.

All they know is that they need  _more._

Closer, closer, closer...

Not enough.

Connor's thoughts are a flurry of activity, but he manages one more plea amid the chaos.

 _Stay with me,_ he thinks, grinding his hips over Markus's clothed erection. The resulting moan drives him wild, so Connor drags his hands down over Markus's front, shredding his shirt open with a pointed claw.  _You and your coven, come with us._

"Connor," Markus breathes. "I—"

"Promise me," Connor growls, his voice shifting into a low whine. " _Please._ I-I don't know if I can do this again—" _I don't know if I can be with you again._ "—if you can't promise me that."

The overwhelming need to be with him is intoxicating. His very presence, invigorating. Being this close, even now, Connor can't ignore how his body calls for him, how his muscles quake, how his heart races, how his blood sings.

He wants Markus to hunt at his side. He knows that he  _can._ His coven is a nomadic one, just the four of them constantly on the run. It could all be relatively similar. All Connor needs is for Markus to say " _yes_."

Markus's gaze softens when Connor's thoughts intrude on his own.

He kisses him then, mentally promising to speak with the others.

It's not exactly what Connor was hoping for, but it's enough.

For now.

Connor tears the rest of Markus's shirt from his chest, their mouths coated with each other's venom, Connor's skin tingling from its effects. As Connor struggles his way out of the coat, Markus takes his time to cover his throat in open-mouthed kisses, licking and nibbling at his pale skin, sucking here and there to leave behind several, bruising marks.

Connor rolls his hips, the moonlight shining down on them from above.

Once they manage to divest themselves of the rest of their clothes, they at least  _try_  to lay them out in an awkward spread, providing them with a makeshift barrier from the ground.

Before long, Markus is laid out before him, hands on Connor's hips as his throbbing cock presses against his ass.

Connor leans in, brushing his lips over Markus's fluttering eyelids, then his smattering of freckles. He works his way lower and lower, his fingers brushing teasingly over brown, sensitive nipples, followed closely behind by Connor's curious tongue.

Markus whispers his name when he runs venom-coated teeth over the perky buds, sinking his teeth into his pecs. His back arches, and Connor moans as he pours his venom into the wounds, not yet drinking from his lover.

It will come in due time.

For now, Connor releases those poor, abused nipples, lapping at them eagerly before he peppers more kisses down Markus's stomach. The muscles tense and jump under his touch, and Connor drags his claws over warm, brown skin.

Dark, thick blood spills forward, different from his own, but its sweet, metallic scent is enough to have Connor scenting the air, his tongue darting out for a taste.

Markus whimpers as Connor drags the flat of his tongue along the wound, an explosion of flavor sending euphoria shooting straight into his veins.

Like last time, Connor feels a hazy veil of lethargy clinging to his senses, but the last thing he wants is to sleep.

No, this airy, weightless feeling leaves him boneless and blissful, but he pushes forward, stubborn and determined. He greedily pulls more from the wound, watching the body beneath him tremble before he seals the damage.

Guiding, careful hands twine in Connor's hair. Markus applies pressure, babbling sweet praises as he tries to get Connor where he wants him most.

Connor smirks, skirting around his dick at the last second, dropping a kiss on Markus's inner thigh.

He receives a snarl in response, but Connor merely counters it with a growl of his own.

Markus gives a low, breathless whine, reaching down to wrap his hand around his cock.

But Connor will be damned if he surrenders so easily. He swipes at his mate’s hand before he gets too close, his claws catching on his skin.

"Damn it," Markus huffs, venom dripping from his teeth. He meets Connor's hooded gaze, melting under the heat of his touch. "Connor, sweetheart, _please_..."

When he tries again, Connor snaps his teeth menacingly, his canines reaching their limit. Markus's thick cock hardens even more, twitching for release.

"Hands above your head" Connor purrs, "or I'll leave you here, just as you are."

Markus narrows his eyes. "You wouldn't."

Connor hums appreciatively against Markus's thigh, smirking up at him. "You sure about that?"

Markus considers him for a moment, probing his mind, only to be greeted with a steely determination.

Releasing a strained groan, he lays back down, crossing his wrists above his head petulantly, but Connor can sense the emotions roiling beneath the surface. He can feel how Markus craves him, how watching Connor take control sends a molten, sluggish desire spreading all throughout his body.

Connor's satisfied grin turns into a gentle smile, grateful for the amount of trust that Markus places in him.

" _Mine_ ," Connor breathes, sinking his teeth into the meat of his inner thigh without warning.

He didn't even prep the area with his venom, so all Connor can feel through their bond is the fresh slice of razor-sharp teeth through skin. Connor hums, feeding from the site.

"Ah f-fuck!" Markus cries out, bucking off of the ground, his hands locked in place by Connor’s sheer willpower alone. Connor tightens his hold on his thigh, though, drinking his fill as each and every drop hits the back of his throat, soothing the dry ache that has been constantly building up over the course of the day. No one else could possibly match this. No one else's taste could ever compete with his mate's. Of course Markus picks up on such thoughts, but Connor is way beyond the point of caring. "Baby, sweetheart, please..."

 _Listen to you,_ Connor thinks. He gives a firm clench of his jaw, and Markus sobs.  _Listen to how you sing for me. So precious._

Connor releases his thigh, not even bothering to clean him up. His blood streams over his thigh, and Connor forces his fangs to recede, working his jaw against the pain.

He takes Markus's swollen cock in hand, smearing the pre-cum from his slit. He thumbs slowly over the head, ordering Markus to watch while he takes the tip into his mouth. The venom elicits a sweet burn, but Connor splits his lips open further, working more of Markus over his tongue. His head bobs up and down with the motion, and Markus hisses with each frantic thrust of his hips.

Wet, warm heat surrounds him, and Connor uses his free hand to cup Markus's balls, rolling and kneading them, directing himself by Markus's pleading thoughts.

"C-Connor..." Markus groans, the bands of his neck stretching tight as his body bows before him. His mouth falls slack, and his black eyes glisten brightly through the darkness. "My mate."

Connor hums, sending vibrations through his aching cock. Everything that falls from Markus’s mouth at this point is a pure mess, and Connor basks in his desperation, hollowing his cheeks before he takes him down to the root.

Markus jerks wildly, but Connor adjusts quickly when his cock rams into the back of his throat.

When he feels Markus's mind spiraling out of control, however, Connor releases him abruptly, ignoring his enraged snarls as he tosses his head from side to side.

Connor catches his hands about to move, and he tsks pointedly.

Squirming through his frustration, Markus returns them with a pout.

"Good boy," Connor croons, winking wickedly before he sucks two of his fingers deep into his mouth.

Once they're soaked with his venom, his fangs popping back into place, he reaches behind himself to work his hole, opening his mind so that Markus can sense  _everything._

Markus might have thought that he wrecked Connor yesterday, but he'll figure things out real quick.

Connor can give as good as he take.

After he has himself slick enough, dripping with the amount of venom he prepped himself with, Connor climbs up Markus's chest, straddling his hips.

They share a brief, passionate kiss, then Connor eases back. He raises himself up and positions Markus's cock at his entrance, teasing his rim before he begins to sink down slowly.

Connor pants at the stretch, at the unhurried drag against his inner walls.

He undulates his hips, bracing his hands against Markus's chest. Slowly, he slides up and down along Markus's cock until, finally, he bottoms out with a husky whine.

Markus's nostrils flare, scenting him, his tongue flicking at the air.

"Mmm..." Connor moans, his hands framing his body. He starts to move, grinding roughly down onto his cock, and decides to have mercy on his poor mate. "Hands on my hips, love."

And it comes as no surprise when those rough hands are there in an instant, followed by the sharp prick of claws digging eagerly into pale skin.

Connor purrs at him in approval.

"Mind yourself," he warns. "You had your fun yesterday. Now—" He wraps a hand around Markus's throat. Careful enough not to apply too much pressure, but poised just so that his claws press in with an undeniable threat. "—it's my turn."

All Markus can summon is a weak, squeaky "uh-huh."

Connor chuckles in delight, moving his hips again, working up his pace until he's bouncing up and down on Markus's dick.

"You fit so w-well," Connor stutters, voice dropping to a possessive growl. Almost as if he was... " _Made for me."_

Markus moans without shame, his hands framing Connor's hips, but not once daring to move them. He lets Connor have his moment, lets him control the pace and flow of things.

His Adam's apple bumps against Connor's palm when he swallows, but Connor darts forward then, parting his lips with his own.

While their tongues explore each other's mouths, Connor trails his hand down, splaying it wide over Markus's unbeating heart.

His hips stutter, and he talks Markus through it, telling him how fast or slow, how deep or shallow, how rough or soft to be with him. 

Their bodies move unevenly, their rhythms becoming more desperate, more erratic with each push and pull of their hips.

But Markus tries. He really does, but there is only so much he can take before his eyes cross and his balls clench while they smack noisily against Connor's ass in the dead of night.

As soon as Connor feels him nearing the edge, past the point of no return, he shoves Markus’s head to the side and buries his teeth deep within his jugular.

Hot, slick blood gushes into his mouth, and Markus shouts senselessly at the stars while he cums inside of Connor's tight body.

Connor clenches down ruthlessly, growling into Markus's neck as he tears into it. Markus gathers enough composure to grasp clumsily between them, giving Connor a few, sloppy strokes before their chests are painted white with streaks of cum.

Riding them both through their orgasms, Connor keeps a steady pull flowing from Markus's throat until his mate whines from his overstimulated nerves.

Connor eventually releases him, then laps gently at his throat.

His mating mark slides close, leaving a nasty scar in its wake, and Connor can't help but to purr smugly when he snuggles into Markus's chest, his erection flagging inside him.

Markus's mind twists and twines with his own, and it takes a few moments before the fog evens out into a single, coherent thought.

_Mine._

Connor doesn't know whose mind it starts with, but it turns into a never-ending loop from there.

He smiles against Markus's neck, nuzzling against his mark as Markus's mind moves on, imagining them traveling together, on the hunt.

And before Connor descends yet again into unconsciousness, all he can think is...

_I can get used to this._

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave a comment, of course, and thanks so much for tuning in. ;)


End file.
